Recently, I’ve been feeling disconnected from writing.
sighs in relief
There, I said it.
I never thought that this’d be my first post in this subcategory. I had plans. I still have goals – certain resolutions that have to do with writing.
There are certain moments in life that you need to address the elephant in the room, though. I feel like it’s one of those moments.
My inability to write is also part of my writing journey. Even though it’s not a pleasant one. I only realized it last night. So, I decided to try to be open about it.
It’s not that I can’t write anything. But I have struggles when it comes to certain genres.
Ironically, I’ve been struggling with fictional and opinion writing for many months now.
I say *ironically* because I used to write this kind of stuff all the time when I was younger.
Now, my go-tos are blog posts that are mostly educational and lack the personal element.
It has kinda become part of my comfort zone. It’s just easier to write content that doesn’t show or say anything about me as a person, my life or my story. It’s just safer.
On the other hand, it’s also bland, a little boring, and doesn’t make me happy.
Something needs to change.
***
Yesterday, I stumbled upon an Instagram post by The Self-Care Recipe.
This quote made me think about my 13-year-old self. What was she like? What did she like doing?
And, gosh, my teen self was so much more outspoken and creative than 32-year-old me.
She could read a book within a day. She was writing fictional scenes in notebooks. She was coming up with story ideas all the time. She was practicing theatrical dialogues in front of the mirror. She was writing poems and blatantly honest blog posts.
So, what happened to me? I had my Rory Gilmore moment – did I peak in high school?
***
I think the reason is complicated but not extremely unusual. It’s trauma.
I went through a bunch of traumatic events in my 20s.
They affected and changed me – but most importantly, they shaped a new version of me.
I don’t hate my current version. She’s calm, tender, vulnerable, and she can be stubborn. On the other hand, she loves her comfort zone, and craves to be liked and accepted.
Such traits not only keep me behind but also, they don’t allow me to express myself as a writer, a creator, and at times, a person.
It’s not that my imagination has died, but it’s terribly suppressed.
Plus, it takes some boldness to show parts of yourself through your stories and characters – a boldness that I don’t currently feel.
It’s not that I don’t have opinions and thoughts on everything that is happening around me, but I’m afraid to express them.
For no apparent reason, my brain’s defense mechanisms are on.
***
In late 2025, I had my *aha* moment when I realized how trauma has affected my creativity and changed my behavior. So, two of my goals for 2026 are to get out of my comfort zone more frequently and express myself creatively.
So far, I’ve done some things.
I booked a 6am flight to force myself to go out in a big city at 3am to take the night bus to the airport.
I walked kilometers instead of taking a cab to see the sunrise.
I took myself on solo dates. In a foreign country.
I’m writing this post.
I mean, I’m not the bungee jumping type to seek anything extreme and I overthought every single action I had to take, but hey, I took them. I wouldn’t have done any of these things last year or two years ago.
***
It’s the first time in forever I’ve written such a personal and unfiltered blog post.
It’s liberating and feels like the foundation for more honest, unfiltered, personal pieces. Maybe.
Fictional writing will follow, eventually. Slowly, with experimentation, and much patience.
Here’s hoping! 🤞
